A blue moon was crabbing at night
in the sea of stars. Yuu could hear
the outcry of herons suddenly.
It was mayhem. Heads will now roll for defiant
attitude. The creepers were trapped
in the impatient blind-catchers.Unforgettable
waiting for the flamed silence was from
night till dawn. The sun will peep discreetly.
The breasted curve of a cloud hoists
a golden thrust in multitude of wings. Day
arrives with a bang riding on bruises. A blast
fills the obtuse mother whose child was dead at the gate.
Sucked slowely, the crumbled walls
put up the silver of noon in background. Someone
covers the body with white mattress. Another
number is added on the page.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
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